


A Matter Of Heart

by Cushion



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cushion/pseuds/Cushion
Summary: “ I will always love you, but I can never trust you again. I’m sorry.”All at once, she was left reeling at her own decision. Maker, what has she done?The relationship between Blackwall and the Inquisitor is in tatters after the Revelations, and the Inquisitor is determined to never let her heart get in the way of things ever again. She has more important things to worry about, other than overly concerned friends and fighting alongside the man she had once trusted and loved with all her heart.A story on repairing trusts and the possibility of finding love again in the midst of war and heartbreak.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Omg Blackwall… you left me in the friggin hay stack after that night we made sweet passionate love and then I had to find out that you lied about your identity this whole time and that you slaughtered a general and his entire family of offsprings and let your men took the fall for you. You can't just say something sweet and kiss me and then everything will be ok, jfc. I can't even. INQUISITOR DONT BE SO DAMN EASY.
> 
> BTW I’m not done playing with the game yet. I completed Revelations and then had to drop everything and write this because I just had to. I don’t know the full story or how the game is going to end yet so if I screw up with anything that’s canon… sorry.
> 
> Also, pairings may change depending on where my muse takes me throughout this story.

“As you command,” he said, voice low and steady like she had just given him any other ordinary order ( _join us, protect them, kiss me_ ) and was not instead sentencing him to a possible painful death under the poison of the Joining or the blade of a darkspawn.

She felt the need to explain herself.

This _wasn’t_ what she _wanted_ , but she knew it was the right thing to do.

Blackwall – the real one – wanted Rainer to seek atonement through action, and not merely through punishment.

Rainer himself had been vastly remorseful about his past actions, and had done more good for the Inquisition than half the men in Skyhold ever since he had joined them.

What more, they were at times of war and they needed to arm themselves with all the strength that they could get. Rainer had proven himself to be remarkably competent warrior – one of the very best that she had seen and had the honour to fought alongside with.

She could do this. Respect a heroic Grey Warden’s dying wish. Give a regretful man the deserving chance for redemption. Provide an invaluable asset to the Inquisition in times of need.

She would do what is right.

But what was the point of even explaining herself? The judgement had been called.

She turned to Josephine, no longer wanting to look into those mournful dark eyes and ready to end this hearing-

“Before I take my leave, I have one thing to say.”

She turned her eyes back to the man before her, and recognized the same determined downturn of his lips that he wore as he ( _cradled her body against his own_ ) charged at demons in a battlefield.

“If ever there was something true and good in my life, it was you.”

Evelyn felt her heart stutter a beat, and her fist tightened around the arms of the ridiculous looking throne. Blackwa - no, Rainier, crept towards her slowly, the jangling of his chains echoing around the silent great hall. 

 _No_. She was not ready for this. 

“I lied about who I was, but I never lied about what I felt.”

She felt paralyzed by the dark eyes that bored into hers. He took another daring step. Another clang of metal. Evelyn swallowed, and found it hard to speak.

“No matter what I was or what becomes of me... Right now, I am just a man with his heart laid bare,” he said, his eyes never once leaving hers. “I leave it in your hands.”

Of course. As always. The most difficult of all choices has always been pushed into her hands. Who dies, who lives. The Mages or the Templars. Hawke or Stroud. She was _so tired_.

She wanted to forgive him. Wanted to start all over again in this relationship that had been one of the few good things that had happened to her ever since she had fallen out of the accursed Fade for the first time. She had loved him _so much_.

But yet, at the same time, she could not forget the cold wind of the empty night as she woke up alone in the barn. She could not forget the horrifying and nauseating taste in the back of her throat when she heard that he slaughtered not just Vincent Caillier, but his _wife_ and his  _four children_. Driven by the pure motive of _greed_.

She had not seen her younger sisters ever since she was seized from her home and forced to join the Circle. _Maker, please let them be well and alive._

She thinks a more forgiving person that was _truly_ blessed with Andraste’s kindness and generosity would probably be able to look past Rainer’s mistakes. A better person would probably be able to look at the man before her and only see a good man who had learned from his past misguided actions.

But she could not do it. 

She could not silent the niggling thoughts at the back of head that whispers: _He is cowardly and untrustworthy._

For once…just once – Maker, forgive her, but she does not have the strength to do what is right this time.

"I-" Her voice cracks, and she swallowed roughly. It felt like glasses going down her throat. "I cannot -" She broke off again, and feels a growing lump in her throat.

A flash of gold at her side, and she sees Josephine taking a step towards her, her eyes clouded with worry and sympathy. All at once, she was keenly aware of the various people standing around the court, murmuring among themselves and observing her with those beady sharp eyes hiding behind Bloodstone masks.

Her heartbeats echoed loudly in her ears, and her hands ached from the unyielding grip around the stone beneath her. She felt her head spin. Maker, what is she doing? Making a spectacle of herself in front of all these people? These people that looked up to her, and see her as a source of strength and inspiration.

She was so tired.

“I will always love you,” she said, hoping that no one could hear the wavering in her voice. “But I can never trust you again. I’m sorry.”

“That-” His eyes widen and he gave a small jerk backwards, as if she had just physically struck him a blow. “That is fair."

He was speaking again, something about _Goodbye_ , but she could not hear him over the rush of blood in her ears and the tightening sensation around her chest. She had done it. She was never going to feel the warmth of his hands around her naked skin ever again. She was never again going to hear the way his voice turns gentle and sweet – just for her – whenever they had a short-lived moment of privacy on the battlefield. _You all right, love?_

All at once, she was left reeling at her own decision. _Maker, what has she done?_

“I will return back to my post and await my orders,” his gruff voice cut through her thoughts.

She watched as he turned and walked away. The view of his back, which had once made her feel safe and protected, left her feeling cold and wretched. For the first time in a long while, she truly felt a surge of despair and regret at the choice that she made.

_Maker, what has she done?_


	2. Seeing Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He said that he never lied about what he felt. But how can you believe his words, when everything else that he said had turned out to be lies?
> 
> (Slight hints of Blackwall/Josephine)

She hated the room that she’s been given in Skyhold.

It was too large and overly luxurious. The furnishing was far too excessive, with a bed that could fit three of her and, of all things, a massive lounge that no one has ever had the need to sit on. And Maker, _all that space_. She practically could hoard the whole Chargers in this room and there would still be space for them to practice their sparring.

As someone who lived in the Circle for more than half her life, she was used to the ever-constant jostling of shoulders, chattering noises by her bedside, and being contented with whatever small measly space that she could call her own.

Her extravagant new room was intimidating and unfamiliar. And when she walked by the injured lying on mats and the bustling of healers and merchants living in tents outside the tower, she feels unworthy.

But Josephine and Vivienne had insisted that she took the room. Something about keeping the image of the Inquisitor and _Take the room, darling. Don’t be plebeian._ She didn’t really understood – surely so much space should be used for something much more useful – but she was never good at playing the game like Josephine and Vivienne, and so she trusted their judgement.

But at the current moment, curled on top of her royale sea silk sheets with the sinking feeling of hurt in her chest and thoughts of _softbeardagainstherlips_ , she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the place of quiet and isolation. Just for a little while.

Feeling somewhat put together again (– _she is fine. She is_ –), she emerged from her room and immediately went to look for Josephine.

 

“I believe I should apologies.”

Josephine blinked at her, a dark quill poised delicately over a golden-brown parchment as she paused in whatever she was scribbling at. “Whatever for?” She asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“At the hearing with Blac- with Thom Rainer,” Evelyn said, and her fist clenched at the stupid slip of his _fake_ name. “I know I should not have bought my own private matters into the court, especially with the eyes and ears of so many around. It was unwise and unprofessional.”

Josephine pursed her lips and set the quill down. “You seemed to have forgotten that I was present myself at that very hearing. And if my memory serves me right, you had no part at all in – as you put it, ‘bringing your private matters into the court’. It was Rainer who bought it up.”

“It does not matter. The way I handled it was still uncalled for.” Evelyn felt her face heat up at the memory of her flounder. Maker, why was she _so weak_? “I just hope that the issue did not cause any further inconvenience to you or the Inquisition.”

“It is of no worry,” Josephine said easily and gave a small wave of her wrist.

Evelyn felt little relief at her words. “Are you sure? After all, surely getting Rainer out of jail had already cost us no small reputational damage.”

“We have had some complains about the use of the Grey Warden treaties that was bought in by Rainer, but it is nothing that we cannot handle.” Josephine said. Then she hesitated. “If it would put you at ease, the…display during Blackwall’s hearing had garnered you some support for the Inquisition’s role in his release. Some people found it easier to support and sympathise with a cause that was… romantic and tragic.”

The thought of people gossiping behind her back, using her life like some kind of romance novel – to fawn and gossip over – had Evelyn gritting her teeth.

She forced herself to relax. Josephine had taught her that this was to be expected. People were always going to talk, and her words and actions were bound to be scrutinised and used by allies and enemies alike to aid in their own selfish cause. If it had helped the Inquisition’s cause, she suppose she could stand to bear these kinds of small humiliations for a little while.

Evelyn ignored the heavy stone in her stomach and forced a small smile. “It is unlike you to be so hesitant over your words, Josie,” she jested.

Josephine did not smile back, and instead stared at the Inquisitor with dark eyes and a slight downturn of her lips. It was almost uncharacteristic of the ever cordial ambassador. Evelyn resisted the urge to squirm.

“Have you spoken to him yet?”

The smile fell from Evelyn’s face. The thought of facing him again, of having to go on missions with him and having to behave as if everything was _normal_ sent her heart pounding.

“No. I would not know what to say,” she said softly. She huffed out a small, bitter laugh. “I do not even know how I should be addressing him anymore.”

 “Well, ‘Ser Blackwall’ would no longer be applicable but ‘Thom Rainer’ hardly sits better on the tongue,” Josephine sighed. She lowered her eyes, and long lashes casted dark shadows across her cheekbones. “How could he kept up the deception for so long, to what purpose? Really, Inquisitor, I’d rather not think of it.”

Evelyn found herself frowning at the pained tone of misery – _was that longing?_ – that filled the ambassador’s voice. There was a flash of memory, and Evelyn was suddenly reminded of the way Josephine had always spoken about him with utmost respect and admiration. Loyal and gallant, she had called him.

And he had always admired Josephine the most out of all their other companions. He had described Josephine as _lovely_.

_He said that he never lied about what he felt. But how can you believe his words, when everything else that he said had turned out to be lies?_

The Inquisitor quickly quenched her straying thoughts. Maker, she was seeing demons in places where there weren’t any. She was losing her mind.

“I never did thank you, anyway. For helping with Rainer’s transfer of custody,” Evelyn said, her voice suddenly sounding far too loud to her own ears.

Another wave of that delicate ebony wrist. “Please, Inquisitor. After all that you have done for me and for the Inquisition, calling in a few favours was of little trouble at all.” Josephine was looking at her again – eyes wide and earnest. “I know how much he meant to you. If there is anything else that I can do to help – anything at all, please let me know.”

Evelyn felt a choking, deep burn of shame. Josephine had been nothing but supportive and helpful right from the beginning. She _is_ lovely. How could Evelyn have suspected any form of treachery from her?

“Thank you, Josephine,” Evelyn said, and prayed that her voice did not give away the ugly, _ugly_ thoughts that were in her head. “I have taken up far too much of your time. I will leave you to your work.”

Evelyn spun on her heels and walked away before Josephine could speak another word, trying not to feel like she was fleeing her with tail between her legs.

She needed some air.


End file.
